


The Restoration of Your Touch

by auroreanrave



Series: trust your senses [4]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: BAMF Lydia Martin, Boyd-centric, Canonical Character Death, Character Death Fix, F/M, Fix-It, Resurrection, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-05
Updated: 2013-11-05
Packaged: 2017-12-31 13:15:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1032115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/auroreanrave/pseuds/auroreanrave
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Boyd coughs up about three months worth of dust and takes the hand offered.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Restoration of Your Touch

**Author's Note:**

> Part of a series of 'Teen Wolf' ficlets or short pieces focused around the five senses. This one is based around the sense of 'touch.
> 
> Takes place post-Season 3A and therefore will contain spoilers thereof. Written because, no, Jeff Davis, you write a good show and all, but writing off your characters like that and for no good damn reason is shitty as hell and I won't stand for it. Nope. Not in my canon.

"Well. _This_ is new."

Boyd's breath _punches_ out of his lungs and he scrambles for breath, for life, for something, as he realises where he is. Beacon Hills Cemetery. His skin is cold, getting warmer every second. He rolls onto his back, violently coughing.

Above him, he vaguely recognises the redhead. Pale skin almost translucent in the moonlight, hair tied back and looking a mixture of inquisitive and almost... _bored_.

"I don't think we've been formerly introduced. Lydia Martin." She offers her hand, nails painted a vibrant emerald against the cold grey night and her pale pink Valentino coat.

Boyd coughs up about three months worth of dust and takes the hand offered.

* * *

They end up at a diner. Lydia pays. Boyd, for once, avoids his manners and orders a big plate of everything his stomach can manage. Lydia takes a cup of camomile tea.

"A banshee?"

"It's rather... unusual, I know. But if we had spent even more than a modicum of time together, I'm sure I would have let you know. Keeping back information isn't _my_ thing." It's barbed and Boyd's not quite sure who against - he can guess, but doesn't like to say - but Lydia shrugs it off.

"The point is, I've been doing some research into my... newfound status as a supernatural being. Acquiring as much as I can about what I might be able to do. Turns out that in certain circumstances..."

Boyd finishes her sentence around a mouthful of bacon. "Bring people back from the dead."

Lydia nods, hands curling around her mug. Her hands are tiny, fragile-looking. Boyd knows they're capable of so much more than they look.

"So now what?"

"Now we go and rebuild your life, Vernon."

* * *

Once Stiles' dad is in on the act, reversing his death turns to be much... well, _easier_ , than they anticipated. A mistaken identity here, an apology there, and within a month, Boyd is back in his senior year. It's scary, he hears Stiles saying, the amount of power you can wield with a badge and a smile.

Scott and Stiles smile at him more, sit with him at lunch with Lydia. It's nice, Boyd guesses. He wishes Erica was there. Wonders why Lydia can't bring her back.

"She was murdered, Boyd. You were... forcibly killed. A loophole, if a very small one." Lydia pauses, her face frowning. Her hand presses onto his wrist. "I am sorry that I can't bring her back. I would if I could."

Boyd leaves her table, leaving Lydia behind, still and silent.

* * *

He doesn't try contacting Derek once. He doesn't blame him but still.

He comments on this once to Lydia and she only nods, almost in approval, and then corrects a mistake he'd made on chapter five.

 

* * *

Boyd starts training in the school gym. Waits until classes let out then strips down to gym shorts and a tank top and starts on the punching bags. Makes him feel something.

After a week, he finds Lydia sat cross-legged on a stack of gym mats, textbook open on her knees. She looks up at him, nods, and then gets back to her astrophysics homework without a word.

Boyd doesn't say a thing, just keeps punching the bag until his knuckles bleed. Even though they don't need it, Lydia makes him sit on the mats and wraps tape around them.

The next day, she's working on the Battle of Gettysburg, and the day after that, feminist analysis of horror fiction.

"Why do you keep coming here?"

Lydia pauses, considering. The turquoise varnish on her nails isn't quite yet dry. "I like to make sure things in my care are alright."

Boyd tugs her to her feet. "I'm not in your care. Alright?"

She grabs hold of his tank top, wrests his head down and kisses him. He doesn't complain. It feels inevitable. He kisses her back.

* * *

"Some day," Lydia says, laying on her stomach on Boyd's bed, bare back exposed in the afternoon light, "I'm going to _rule_ the world."

Boyd, tracing a finger down her back, nods because it's _true_ , and kisses her.

* * *

At prom, she makes him wear a suit she picked out herself - it looks good, like he knew it would, his girl has taste after all - and fucks him in the limo before they even get dressed. She wears purple chiffon and Pacioti heels she knows make her look taller. Boyd knows she looks beautiful.

They dance to songs that neither of them really like and he tells her something. She tells him the same something back. He likes it, a lot.

* * *

At graduation, their eyes meet across the quad and Boyd knows he's going with this girl, this impossible woman who he saved and saved him. Afterwards, he touches the pulse point of her wrist, thinks of all the tomorrows they'll have.

Later they watch the stars from the back of Boyd's truck (a cliche, Lydia admits, but one she'll concede to for him), Lydia tells him, warm and sleepy in his arms, "Some day... I'm going to rule the world."

Boyd smiles, counts the stars above him, and considers the title of First Husband. It fits, as he knew it would, unsurprisingly well.


End file.
